


Holding On

by cleasugar



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6666814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleasugar/pseuds/cleasugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Ellison was pushing a cuffed Frank Raichins in front of him towards the waiting uniforms with the kind of tightly controlled force that suggested he’d rather be throwing the man through a window when Simon’s voice came over his headset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding On

**Author's Note:**

> Episode Tag for "Dead Drop", originally published at fanfiction.net.

Jim Ellison was pushing a cuffed Frank Raichins in front of him towards the waiting uniforms with the kind of tightly controlled force that suggested he’d rather be throwing the man through a window when Simon’s voice came over his headset. 

“Jim, we need you up here.”

Ellison didn’t even have to ask. He shoved Raichins into the hands of the waiting cops with a glare that promised dire retribution if the punk wasn’t in holding within fifteen minutes, and took off at a near jog towards the one elevator the PD had freed up for transporting the crisis teams. He would have taken the stairs at the same pace, but it was twenty floors up. The elevator would be faster and the tone of Simon’s voice said that something was wrong with Sandburg.  Jim has spent the last eight hours unable to get to Blair when he was in trouble. He’d spent about eight minutes thinking Blair was dead. He wasn’t going to spend even eight seconds longer than he needed to be there now.

The truth was, when Raichins had hit the detonator and the members of the Cascade PD had felt the building shake under the force of the blast, they had all frozen for a moment in horror, knowing that the sound had meant that Sandburg and three other people had just died. Something in Jim had roared in fury and denial, and the speed and viciousness of his attack had caught Raichins completely by surprise, mid-gloat. He went down fast and hard, but it hadn’t mattered to Jim, for whom it was already too late. It was only Joel’s jubilant voice on the radio saying that the hostages had all survived that had saved the piece of shit’s life. Ellison had cuffed Raichins and hauled him up, ready to drop him down the stairwell while Taggart, babbling with relief, relayed in his ear how Sandburg had cut a hole in the floor of the elevator and dropped the bomb down the shaft moments before it had gone off. Jim didn’t know how in the hell Blair had managed that, but he didn’t question it. 

After that, things simmered down to business-as-usual. Jim got the EMTs up to the Bullion Exchange to do what they could for the asshole’s reluctant accomplice (they said the kid would live to stand trial). Then he force-marched Raichins down every single one of the flights of stairs none too gently, still feeling the adrenaline spike of fear in his skin from the moment he’d thought Blair had died.  Raichins bitched and complained and demanded a lawyer and Jim told him to shut the hell up while he listened through the radio to the bomb squad diffusing the last of the C4 wired into the elevator’s roof.

“Jim, we need you up here.”

Simon’s tone had been serious--not angry, not scared, but worried. Shifting on his feet as the elevator climbed, Jim started to wonder if maybe Blair had been hurt in the blast, even though nothing in Taggart’s voice had suggested there was anything but a few minor injuries among the hostages. Blair wasn’t one to be stoic about being injured, though, so unless he hadn’t realized he’d been hurt….Jim’s gaze watched the numbers light up one by one as the elevator car climbed, and then suddenly cursed. 

“Shit!” he muttered, startling the uniform riding up with him. Of course. Blair hated heights. He was stuck in an elevator twenty floors up with a giant hole in it. As the car slowed to a stop and the doors slid open, Jim already knew what he would find. 

“Detective Ellison?” The police officer who greeted him as he stepped out wasn’t someone he knew, but the name badge said “Bartlett.” Ellison nodded at the man and strode past him, intent on getting to where he was needed. Officer Rankin caught up to him. “One of the hostages is having a panic attack, sir.” he said, “He refuses to move, doesn’t seem to get that it’s all over and there’s nothing to be scared of. Captain Banks thought you would be able to get through to him.” 

Ellison stopped and turned a hard look on the man, who sounded dismissive, almost contemptuous. But it was a woman sitting on a low bench having her ankle wrapped who spoke up angrily. “That young man is a hero!” she insisted. “He saved all of us.” A black man standing nearby nodded emphatically in agreement.

Somewhat belatedly, Officer Bartlett seemed to realize that he’d been heard by everyone in the elevator bay, and no one was impressed with his assessment of the situation--including Captain Banks, who brought all six foot two of his towering presence to bear when he said “Officer Bartlett, why don’t you take the car down and make yourself available to the crime scene boys?” It wasn’t a request. The man flushed, muttered “yessir” and got back on the elevator.

Ellison ignored him, making a beeline straight for the last door in the bay, where he could already hear the fast double-thump of a familiar heartbeat. Taggart was standing at the door, talking in a low voice to the person inside. Jim placed his hand on Joel’s shoulder and the man stepped aside, saying soothingly “Here’s Jim, now, Blair. He’ll help you get out,” and Jim got his first look at Blair Sandburg since the video cameras had gone dark three hours earlier.

The kid was sweaty and pale. He looked frightened, and also frustrated and ashamed. He was pressed against the back wall of the elevator, and was making an obvious effort not to look at the sizable hole in the floor between him and the doorway that Jim now stood framed in. “Hey Chief,” said Jim, “How you doing?”

Blair looked at him, breathing fast. “Jim,” he said, “Sorry about this. Just having a bit of a freak out here, you know? I’m having kind of shitty day. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

Jim Ellison kept the easy smile on his face, but something inside him swelled with admiration. There was no doubt that Blair Sandburg was scared out of his mind right now--fear stank, and Jim knew the smell of it better than anything else. But the kid was holding himself together, fighting off his panic with sheer stubbornness.  “I know it sounds stupid, man,” Blair was saying, “but I’m having a hard time moving.”

“Not stupid,” Jim said, one ear tuned into Blair’s rapid heartbeat--he thought it might have slowed just a bit when Jim had showed up. “You are having a shitty day.” Blair gave a high-pitched, slightly choked-off laugh. Jim studied the floor of the elevator. There was indeed a big square hole in the floor, it looked like it had been cut out by a welding torch. Where the hell had Blair got a welding torch? Jim wondered. And when the hell had he learned to use one?  

But these were just part of the mysteries that attended Blair Sandburg--a young man of many unexpected talents. Like being able to drive an 18-wheeler. Operate any kind of boat. Profile a serial killer. Turn a fire hose on armed bank robbers. Talk someone through cracking a combination lock. Jim thought Sandburg’s greatest talent was probably that he was kind of guy who made his own luck.

The hole was big, but not so big that Blair couldn’t have inched around it without too much difficulty. But he’d have to look down at his feet to do so, and that meant looking twenty floors down the shaft. No wonder the kid was paralyzed. “How about this, Chief” Jim said, stepping into the elevator car, feet planted at his edge of the gap that separated them. “Let me help you get out of here.”

“Jim, I do not need you to carry me out of here like some fainting damsel in distress,” Blair snapped, color high in his cheeks. “I can do this, just give me a minute to get myself to---JIM!” he squeaked, suddenly, as Jim Ellison took a step forward, so that he was straddling the gap in the floor.

“I know I don’t need to carry you, Chief” he said softly. “I’m just going to hold on to you” and he reached forward to grab Blair’s arms, which he had flung forward as if to grab Jim before he fell through the floor. Even in a panic, Blair’s instinct was to help. The admiration Jim felt swelled. The kid was brave.

Blair looked at Jim’s hands where they clasped his forearms firmly, then up at Jim’s face, his own red with shame. Jim kept his own expression soft and easy, and tried to convey some of the respect and pride he felt for his partner. “I’ll hold on, Blair,” he said again, urging the younger man to trust him. Blair nodded, and swallowed, and took a step away from the back wall. 

Slowly, his eyes fixed on Jim’s face and his hands gripping the other man’s arms, Blair made his way around the hole in the floor until he was closer enough to let go of Jim and grab the door frame. Another step and he was out, breathing heavily, Jim right behind him saying nothing, but placing a supporting hand on his back. 

The black man who had been in the bay came up to the two men and spoke to Blair. “Thank you, man. Because of you I get to see my wife and my four beautiful kids again. I’m gonna light a candle in the church for you.” Blair, still trying to slow his breathing down, nodded slightly¸ looking at his feet. 

“Take him on down, Jim,” Simon Bank’s deep voice sounded satisfied. “Come on, Chief,” Jim said, “Let’s get out of here.” And he urged Blair forward towards the one working elevator. Blair, to his credit, didn’t flinch when he stepped in, and as the doors closed on the two of them they heard the scattered applause of the grateful people they left behind. 


End file.
